


Closer to Perfect

by Jennybel75



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennybel75/pseuds/Jennybel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going for a quiet drink is never quite what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer to Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Beta(s): imyourally, mellacious and a special big thanks to catlover2x for her beta and for perfecting the title.
> 
> this is the first fic I ever wrote in any fandom, way back in 2005. :) Just moving stuff over from FFNet

You’re sitting in the locker room. It’s the end of the shift and for once you’re glad about it. You’ve just pulled a double and wrapped a tough case and are looking forward to forgetting all about it.

The door to the locker room bangs open and you look up to see Greg standing there.

“Hey Nick, you finished up early huh?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, me too. I was thinking of going and maybe getting a couple a’ drinks. Want to come along?”

You were just planning on going home, maybe reading a book and catching up on sleep, but the idea of a couple of quiet relaxing beers is appealing so even before you realise it you’ve agreed.

“Great. I’ll just get changed and meet you in the parking lot. Give me 10?”

Agreeing you make your way out of the room alternately wondering at the energy of the guy and ignoring the butterflies which seem to have fluttered into your stomach.

\--

It’s cold in the parking lot and you’re starting to wonder whether you should have just gone home when you spot Greg coming out the door. Blonde hair spiked up to there, a black NIИ t-shirt with his jeans and a grin on his face.

“Hey Nicky, ready to go?”

“Yeah man.”

“Anywhere special you want to go?”

“Nah, it’s your party, dude.”

“Alrighty then, let’s go.”

You both jump in Greg’s car as you figure it’ll be easier and you can just catch a cab home from the bar. You’re so tired that driving after even one drink would be a bad idea. Settling back in the seat you close your eyes and let Greg’s chatter about the day wash over you. The butterflies seem to have disappeared and you’re glad.

\--

Greg screeches to a halt, pulling you out of your reverie. You don’t recognise the spot but aren’t that surprised. Places are always disappearing and reappearing in Vegas. You smile at the vigour that propels Greg out of the car and get out yourself, albeit much more sedately.

You follow Greg into the building and all your thoughts of a couple of relaxing beers vanish. It’s a club, not a bar and is full of sweaty people bumping and grinding to a heavy industrial beat.

Greg turns to you looking so excited and says “Isn’t it great? C’mon lets grab a beer and get out on the floor.”

Great. Dancing. It’s never been your thing. You sigh and move through the crowd with him to the bar and order your beer. Greg then pulls you over to a table with a bird’s eye view of the dance floor. You sit down, figuring that you’ll drink your beer and then make your excuses. However Greg seems to have other plans, he’s chugging his beer like a frat pledge then jumping up trying to drag you onto the floor.

“Let's get out there Nick, it’ll be fun.”

“Greg man, I don’t dance. Never have. I’ll be fine here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Okay then, your loss” and with that Greg bounces off and disappears into the mass of bodies on the dance floor.

\-- 

Sitting at the table, drinking your beer you wonder why the hell you’re still there, why you didn’t chug your beer with Greg and then leave when he left you. You’re still contemplating this when a movement on the dance floor catches your eye. It’s Greg, jumping around like a mad thing. You smile and catch yourself wishing that you could be more like him, so open, so honest. But you know you can’t. There are things about you that you can’t even be honest with yourself about, let alone anyone else.

The music changes- a less frenetic beat, sexier somehow. You look for Greg again and have a hard time spotting him. Finally you do though; he’s now dancing with someone else. Your eyes narrow as you watch their bodies move in synch with each other, getting closer, shifting in a way that would have been called dirty dancing 10 years ago.

Swallowing the rest of your beer you get up and walk back to the bar. You order another drink, tequila this time. First one shot, then another and another, trying to push the image you saw out of your head. Trying just as hard not to replace it with the thought that Greg should be moving in that rhythm next to your body. Fuck. Under your body. You shake your head trying to clear it, feeling the need just to get the hell out of there. You don’t even register the music change this time as you turn to walk out of the club. A hand on your arm stops you. Greg. Sweaty, smiling and hot.

“Hey Nick, where ya going?”

“Uh,… nowhere, Greg. Just thinking that it’s home-time for me” you stutter trying to shut those vivid images out.

“No way man. Come on, you can’t leave without dancing at least once and this is the best song ever.”

The heavy beat of the bass now pounds its way into your head, you think it sounds familiar but can’t really place it. Greg is dragging you towards the dance floor and your three shots of tequila are letting him.

It’s hot and crowded on the floor; people keep bumping into you from all directions, pushing you closer to Greg, covering you with their sweat. The alcohol’s working now; you can feel the beat of the music and start moving in time with it. Greg notices and smiles at you, seemingly glad that you’ve decided to enjoy yourself. You think you see a flash of something else there, but dismiss it as an artefact of your overheated imagination.

The crowd is really into it now, their movements getting more frenzied, bodies literally glistening with heat, pressing closer into your space. Now there’s just an arms length between you and Greg. You could bridge the gap so easily, just reach your hand out and touch him, however you know you won’t. He’s got his eyes closed, dancing like nothing else matters and singing along with the lyrics. The lyrics. You hadn’t really paid any attention to them before but now you can’t focus on anything else:

 

_"Help me. I broke apart my insides,_  
Help me. I’ve got no soul to tell,  
Help me. The only thing that works for me…….” 

 

You breathe in, you exhale. You recognise the song now and the chorus crashes through your brain flooding it with the images you were trying to avoid. Your eyes close as though they’re trying not to see what’s happening in your head. Inhale, exhale, steady breaths. But it’s not working. The combination of the music, alcohol and the proximity of Greg is making it way too hard to think rationally.

Exhaling unsteadily you open your eyes planning to find the nearest exit and get the hell out of there before you do something you regret. Except you don’t move, you can’t. His eyes are wide open now, staring straight at you. How long has he been watching you? He’s still singing, brown eyes looking into yours as he sings along with the music:

 

_“You can have my isolation,_  
You can have the hate that it brings.  
You can have my absence of faith,  
You can have my everything. 

_Help me. Tear down my reason._  
Help me. It’s your sex I can smell.  
Help me. You make me perfect.  
Help me become somebody else.” 

 

What you thought you saw in his eyes before is still there, unmistakeably so. You’re frozen, not daring to believe it. You want to move but you can’t. He seems to sense this and moves towards you, so close now. So close that all you would have to do is lean slightly forward and the stuff of your dreams would be made reality.

You shudder as Greg’s hot breath tickles your ear whispering “Earth to Nick. Hey man, do you still want to go home?”

Dumbly you nod your assent, praying that all this isn’t another one of your imaginings and that if it is you’re not going to wake up now.

“Ok then.” He puts his hand on the small of your back and steers you towards the door. You note that the song is still playing, coming to the end. You smile and allow yourself to breathe as Greg leans in and whispers the last line of the song to you:

“You are the reason I stay alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has now been translated into Russian by Damios_666: http://ficbook.net/readfic/639939


End file.
